Scenes on a Road to Reapotheosis ?
by DrFrankenburger
Summary: Keeping an eye on Moist and Adora Belle Von Lipwig Und Dearheart as their legend grows. Rated M for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter the First. The Postmaster's Pets.**

 _Disclaimer. The Discworld, its institutions and characters belong to the late Sir Terry Pratchett and his heirs. This story is for entertainment only and I claim no commercial interest in it._

 _The central joke_ _of this drabble is not mine but fits the milieu. I hope it does not disappoint and it's not too obscure who Dachtyla is meant to be._

An unlicenced thief was sneaking through the rooms of a mansion on Scoone Avenue. He was still adjusting to freedom again after having been banged up a long time for a big job. How long had it been ? He couldn't clearly remember. It couldn't have been pleasant. He bore some terrible scars. His name ? Dachtyla would do for now. **(1)** He couldn't resist a near legendary target for the purpose of reinvigorating his career and reputation. He cared not for the Thieves' Guild or the Watch. **(2)** He intended to burgle the private office of the Golden Postman himself, Mr Moist Von Lipwig. **(3)**

He'd checked that Mrs Von Lipwig Und Dearheart was away on business. He'd heard she could get painfully _assertive_ with people who'd wronged her or those she cared about. Even he had heard of what she'd wanted to do to Reacher Gilt on the night of the Post Office fire. **(4)** Given her headstrong nature, he was amazed that Moist had talked her out of disembowelling the swine. He really thought that way. He genuinely believed some scofflaws gave criminals a bad name. He might not be Guild, but he lived by a Code. **(5)**

He'd also managed to wangle a special charm off a bent wizard. The house Goblins would be unable to see, hear or smell him. He didn't want to acquire any more scars from their particular brand of friskiness when they were riled. And after the Battle of the Railhead **(6)** the Postmaster was viewed as a great hero by most Goblins. **(7)**

It looked like he'd covered all the angles. He entered a room that looked like an office, and the crown - and - envelope sigil on the door implied it was the right one. He entered the room. A voice called out.

'Fedecks is watching you !'

Bugger ! He especially didn't want the Gods taking an interest (couldn't think why though.) ( **7a)** Wanting to see where he stood more clearly, he struck a match and looked in the direction of the voice.

He could see a cockatoo in a large cage. Some things are decided by narrative causality, though sheer human cussedness night have been part of what Dachtyla did next. He asked a question.

'What is your name ?'

'Alphonse.' **(9)**

He couldn't have resisted replying for a big clock. **(10)**

'That sounds like a silly name for a cockatoo.'

'And 'Fedecks' is a silly name for a Lipwigzer guard dog.' **(11) (12)**

Dachtyla carefully raised his hands in the air, stood very still and quietly addressed Alphonse.

'I think someone should call the Watch,' he said.

(1)More or less Greek for Ephebian. It means 'Fingers.'

(2)Most unwise in Ankh – Morpork. Better to be caught by the Watch. The Guild could get _creative._

(3)This could be even more unwise. Like wizards, posties are swift to anger – but not all that subtle.

(4)See Sir Terry's _Going Postal._

(5)This is beginning to sound familiar...

(6)See Sir Terry's _Raising Steam._

(7)Though Adora Belle's Goblin PA openly thought Moist a bit of a tit. It takes one to know one...

(7a)Post traumatic amnesia fits the bill here.

(9)The bird was gifted to Moist By Reacher Gilt when the Postmaster bested him.

(10)Narrative causality again.

(11)Very similar to Roundworld Rottweilers and are nice animals – _if their tempers are not tried._

(12)It had taken Moist, Adora Belle and Grandfather Bastian some time to dissuade dog and Goblins from eating each other. (Plug for my story 'The Strange Delivery of Mr Von Lipwig.')


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter the Second. The Clacksmistress Dispenses Career Advice to Mr Shmuel.**

 _The concept of Free Golem creativity came to my mind and so Mr Shmuel's ambitions came to be written down here. He may even be an OC, in which case I may have established the concept of a Free Golem as a man of letters. Feel free to correct me if I am mistaken._

A Golem carrying a briefcase in the office was unusual, thought Adora Belle Von Lipwig Und Dearheart, head of the Grand Trunk Semaphore Company (and called the Clacksmistress in the same vein as her husband being the Postmaster) though so was the concept of the Free Golems until the Golems Trust was well established.

'I Hope I Am Not Intruding, Ms Dearheart, **(1)** Constable Nebbish told Me About The Burglar At Your House And I Saw Him Leave The Office Just Before I Arrived, I Assume He Was Giving You An Update On The Situation.' **(2)**

Mr Shmuel knew to wait for the unspoken question to be answered. To be fair, some Golems still could not pick up on unspoken questions and did not always realise they were posing them. Golems were very literal - minded and most Humans were not, Ms Dearheart was more tolerant of this idiosyncrasy than most, and better able to handle it.

'Thank you for your concern Mr Shmuel. Because your people are so long – lived and prize the truth so greatly **(3)** you may be able to provide some advice on the news he brought. It was clear to me that he did not fully understand what happened even though he was one of the two arresting officers **(4)** assigned to the case when the suspect surrendered to Alphonse and asked him to call the Watch. Once they had taken custody of Mr Dachtyla they took him out to the street and signalled to Pseudopolis Yard for a pick - up. While they awaited a hurry – up wagon he engaged them in friendly chatter and by the time it had arrived he was gone and neither of them could work out how he'd done it, though Bluejohn reported 'something funny about his eyes.''

'I Will Look Into This. I Do Not Have Any Immediate Answers But I Can Make Enquiries Among The Older Golems. They May Know Something Relevant.'

'Thank you again. Perhaps your enquiries will produce an answer that will satisfy Commander Vimes. Constable Nebbish said the Commander was most perturbed that a suspect could trick his way out of a Golem officer's custody. ( **5)** I think we should move on to the main reason for this appointment. I understand you want to be a writer.'

'Indeed I Do Ms Dearheart. But I Am Troubled By My Kind's Lack Of Creativity. We Were Never Intended To Be Original Thinkers.'

'I have noticed that you are skilled debaters though. This could be of use in writing reasoned editorial opinions in a newspaper.'

'I Have Studied The Form In The Local Press. The Quality Of Such Material Is Highly Variable And Usually Is Little Better Than Attempted Demagoguery In The Down Market Press. The Times Is The Best Though Its Headlines Could Do With Being A Bit Less Sensational.'

'I could mention to Mr De Worde that a Golem's perspective might be useful in securing his newspaper's reputation for objectivity. I think I can persuade him to try you out writing opinion pieces. And I suspect Lord Vetinari would value seeing a Golem's perspective on events in print. There's also the matter of being paid to write. Few authors break through but a journalist often works for regular wages.'

'I Would Be Thankful If You Do That Ms Dearheart. It Would Also Mean A Lot To Me If You Would Examine Some Examples Of My Work. I Believe I Have Found A Genre Of Literature That Is Easier Than Most For Golems To Master.'

He reached into his briefcase and took out a manuscript.

'It Would Be Most Helpful If You Could Advise Me On This Manuscript In Due Course. In The Meantime I Look Forward To The Possibility Of Working At The Ankh – Morpork Times. I Will Continue My Other Literary Efforts In The Light Of Such Feedback As I Receive. I Will Leave The Manuscript With You And Await Your Review.'

Mr Shmuel handed her the manuscript and took his leave.

Adora Belle looked at the title page of the book. The things Morporkians were doing these days. Human steel workers adopting Dwarfish names to boost business. Troll lawyers and hairdressers. Now a Golem journalist and aspiring author.

It was clear that Mr Shmuel had chosen a genre that a literal minded people could cope with. It employed a short story format, each tale carrying an ethical lesson laid out in an easily understood manner.

She looked forward to reading 'Mr Shmuel's Improving Tales For Children.' **(6)**

(1)The Clacksmistress will always be known to the Golems by her maiden name.

(2)Commander Vimes had sent Nebbish with the latest news because 'She'd never thump a Golem.'

(3)Will the Golems' attitude help the Goddess of Truth ? Weird. They prefer logic to blind belief.

(4)Constable Nebbish (Golem, ethical, wise) and Constable Bluejohn (Troll, big, strong, a bit dim.)

(5)Golems don't use such phrases as 'went librarian.' It's like the Dwarfs' trouble with metaphors.

(6)'Improving tales' used to be a rather _worthy_ genre of children's literature on Roundworld.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter the Third. The Werewolf.**

 _The central argument in this chapter came to me when remembering an author describe buying a dog ticket for his pet otter._

 _Moist is performing a task at the start that once upon a time happened on Roundworld. The lamp room of a busy station would have been a hive of activity at night._

 _A moment's thought will make it obvious why a Troll or Golem could not be assigned this duty. It really would not be a good idea._

Moist Von Lipwig had found a new game. It wasn't as dangerous as edificeering such prominent buildings as the Royal Mail sorting office or the Royal Bank, both of which were still nominally under his management. He could have fallen off. And his lack of easily memorable features could have caused problems with overly zealous security staff. He'd already had one very close call at the Post Office in this respect. **(1)** Who could have expected Mr Post Office/Mr Bank/Mr Mint/Mr Railway to find fun in a prosaic duty servicing early evening and night passenger trains ?

Nocturnal trains have to be lit.

The Ankh – Morpork and Sto Plains Hygienic Railway used pot lamps for this. **(2)**

The lamps sat in sockets set into the roof of each carriage. The pot lamp was an easily changed oil lamp which could readily be ignited by a passenger or guard, using a match. **(3)**

This sounds simple. Now make your way along the top of the stationary train checking lamp oil reservoirs. Withdraw those below a suitable fill level. Pass them to a colleague on the platform. Be careful, they will probably be hot.

Your colleague will be pushing a service trolley through the crowds on the platform. He will receive the empties and pass you full ones to be placed in the roof sockets.

Service the length of the train before its due departure time.

Try this on a twelve carriage express some time. Five minutes, tops, at busy times. Quite the time trial.

Moist kept an eye on the platform crowd. When you had a career history like his it was second nature. Besides, eddies in the flow of people could change the path of the service trolley in unpredictable ways. His current work partner, Of The Pot Lamp The Glow, seemed supernaturally adept at steering a straight course.

This allowed Moist's attention to scan the crowds more effectively as he worked. It alighted on an elderly man arguing with a guard. To judge by his clothes (hat with a small feather in it, felt jacket, lederhosen) he was from Uberwald. The enormous Meerschaum pipe he was smoking could be considered a courtesy detail.

'Mr Of The Pot Lamp The Glow, can you finish up solo ? There is something I need to look into.'

'No problem Mr Hero, **(4)** bet you a rabbit pie **(5)** I can do it and beat your time !'

'You're on !'

Moist dropped down from the train and approached the argument, which was already attracting the usual Ankh – Morpork street theatre audience. The guard was taking this as a cue to attempt to be stern with the foreigner.

'I'm tellin' you that you can't travel on a dog ticket mate !' **(6)**

Moist flashed his railway ID card. **(7)**

'Can I help, gentlemen ?'

'Mr Von Lipwig. This could be a stroke of luck, you being from Uberwald yourself. Can you 'elp explain the ticketing system to this genn'lman ? 'E don't seem to unnerstand it.'

'I note the gentleman in question is carrying a large bag. Did you see a big dog anywhere near the bag during the journey ?'

Railway guards are observant. He had seen just that. In a luggage compartment. There was currently no sign of the dog.

'I 'ope we ain't got a lost dog to worry about 'n all...'

The guard was aware that Moist was grinning and the old man was starting to look amused.

'I travelled next to my luggage. If people see what they assume is a big dog minding a bag, they leave it alone. It makes up for the discomfort of riding in the luggage compartment.'

Sunrise began to dawn on the guard's mental horizon.

'I didn't realize you was a...'

'You can say 'werewolf'' young man. I think I complied with the terms of the dog ticket pretty well. I know it was a cheap ticket, but I didn't take up a seat someone else could use.'

Moist couldn't resist dropping the bombshell.

'I think my grandfather has made an eloquent case for allowing him to have travelled on a dog ticket Mr...Smith.' Moist's pause had been spent reading the guard's badge.

'Your granddad ? Whyn't you just say ? I'd have let this pass...'

'I wanted to see what reasons might be given for a werewolf using a dog ticket. I think we've set a precedent tonight, and I'll recommend to Lord King **(7a)** that allowing this become part of standard operating practice. He'll accept it if I suggest that then taking up a seat should attract an additional penalty fare.'

A cheerful shout came from the back of the train.

'Done it. Beaten the time !'

'If you don't mind Mr Smith, Grandfather and I will take our leave. And I think I owe Mr Of The Pot Lamp The Glow a rabbit pie...'

(1)See Sir Terry's _Making Money._

(2)Lord Vetinari's orders. Gas would be more efficient but Dwarfish flamethrowers came to mind.

(3)This reflects early Roundworld railway practice.

(4)The Goblin wasn't taking the mickey. They can be disconcertingly direct about showing respect.

(5)A great delicacy among Goblins. See Sir Terry's _Snuff_ to see how this can go too far.

(6)In the UK there was a time when train travellers could get a cheaper ticket for their dog.

(7)Some people object to ID, but it was a godsend for Moist, reminding subordinates who he was.

(7a)Principal shareholder in the railway, short tempered, but at this point of his career, fair minded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter the Fourth. This One Tries To Pass The Bechdel Test.**

 _The idea for this chapter came to me when I remembered the number of 'Postman Pat' dolls I saw placed on Royal Mail sorting frames. It was as as if the workers were attempting to invoke a local Post Office tutelary spirit or deity._ _Given Adora Belle was going to be involved here, I've tried to make the chapter pass the Bechdel test._

It was a small matter in some respects. A sorting frame is a kind of desk. Desks have drawers. Sorters need ready access to _all_ the frame. It was reasonable that a votive image of Anoia, Goddess of Things That Get Stuck In Drawers, be placed near the frame's drawers. But something strange was happening...

Four women were checking the sorting desks on a mail train currently in a siding for cleaning and maintenance. **(1)** Ms Gladys was the first one to speak. **(2)**

'Miss Maccalariat, **(3)** When You Brought This To My Attention In The Sorting Hall, I Thought it Wise To Inform Ms Dearheart And To Investigate The Matter in Sub – Offices And Trains To See How Far It Had Spread.'

'I agree with your assessment, we wanted to be sure nothing _amiss_ was going on.'

Then High Priestess of Anoia, Extremelia Mume spoke.

'I can rule that nothing amiss is happening by the principles of the Faith, but I have to say that what we have seen bears further looking into.'

The fourth member of the group, Mrs Adora Belle Von Lipwig Und Dearheart **, (4)** was feeling a little testy due to keeping to the Post Office 'no smoking' rule on postal premises and vehicles. That they had seen something unsettling was getting on her nerves and she could do with a drag. Or several drags.

'Lets leave the marshalling yard and find somewhere more comfortable to discuss things. This train isn't really big enough to accommodate us all properly.'

'Sorry Ms Dearheart, It's Difficult To Fit In Sometimes When You Are Very Tall.'

'Never mind, I think the Golems Trust offices will suit our purposes, unless High Priestess Mume doesn't mind me smoking in her office at the Temple.'

'I don't think that would be a problem. The Goddess herself is a heavy smoker.'

'We'll take it to the Goddess then. I think she will want to be consulted on this.'

The group left to take what they had seen to the Temple of Anoia and petition the Goddess for advice.

On sorting frames they had seen numerous images of the Goddess Anoia.

All of them bore a striking resemblance to Adora Belle Von Lipwig Und Dearheart.

When somebody finally noticed the image of Fedecks, Messenger of the Gods, at the top of each sorting frame resembled the Postmaster, the midden was _really_ going to strike the windmill.

(1)For at least one of them this was for a given value of 'woman.'

(2)How a Golem became a woman and a feminist is in Sir Terry's _Going Postal_ and _Making Money._

(3)Being a Post Office Golem, she accepts that certain honorifics go with certain jobs.

(4)'Ms Dearheart' to Ms Gladys.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter the Fifth. A Postmasterly Endorsement.**

 _This chapter started to form from the inconvenience of winter coughs and phlegm, a certain character's penchant for patent medicines, Moist's wariness of them and a certain Troll lawyer's taste for business ethics. I was also inspired by a Roundworld cough drop launched in England in 1865, and still in use worldwide. I've even seen them on sale in the Philippines, I kid you not._

Four men were present at the meeting in an office at the Guild of Lawyers. One of them spoke.

'I understand you have used these lozenges yourself Mr Lipwig, can you attest that they work ?'

'Oh yes Mr Thunderbolt, they work, but a warning about how strong they are is in order.' **(1)**

Mr Groat protested.

'They was only Number Threes Mr Lipwig, they's quite mild !'

'For you perhaps, Tolliver, given your decades of exposure to such things. For the uninitiated, advice to avoid overdoing it would be in order. I believe Doctor Lawn here would agree.'

'Indeed Mr Lipwig, I have checked out samples in the laboratories of the Lady Sybil Hospital and so has Igor, **(2)** there's nothing actually _dangerous_ about them and I can see the value of such things being available to the public. Winter air pollution in this city is really bad for the chest, especially now that so many coal burning industries have been established here. I can see Mr Thunderbolt appears to have some draft papers ready.'

The lawyer took the floor.

'Lord Vetinari has granted Mr Groat a patent on the recipe, though he did raise an eyebrow at the list of ingredients. **(3)** I think he muttered something about monitoring the use of incapacitants in public hands. Doctor Lawn has agreed that the pharmacy of his hospital will produce the first public trial batches, with an option of licensing full production via the Apothecaries' Guild should they be successful. An endorsement from Mr Groat's employer would help here Mr Lipwig. People trust you.'

Tolliver Groat chipped in.

'Lots of the lads use 'em sir. Keeps the tubes clear on cold smoggy mornin's. You'd only be agreein' with established views sir.'

Moist grappled with his own alarming introduction to Mr Groat's cough drops and their popularity among the old man's colleagues.

'They are quite remarkable...' he began.

Mr Thunderbolt came to the rescue.

'I think we will go with that,' he said

Not long after the meeting Mr Groat's Postman's Friend (TM) hit the market and was a hit both in Ankh – Morpork and elsewhere. Even among Agateans. Chesty coughs are universal after all.

 **(1)** See Sir Terry's _Going Postal._

 **(2)** Not Igor the barman from Biers, the undead pub. You wouldn't want _these_ in your drink.

 **(3)** The Patrician is a licensed Assassin. Make of this what you will.


End file.
